Shadow Lover
by FatesMistake
Summary: SSHP. Inspired by the Last Herald Mage song by the same name. Harry starts getting visits from his least favorite professor in the summer before his 7th Year. Sexy stuffs, so be warned.
1. Chapter 1

Harry awoke to gentle lips on his cheek. He blinked away the sleep in his eyes, then shot up, backing against the wall as he covered his naked torso with his worn sheet.

"Shh."

"Snape?" Harry whispered. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Snape smirked. "Think of this as a wellness check."

"It's the middle of the night," Harry pointed out.

"The better for avoiding your relatives," Snape said with a shrug. "How have you been, Potter?"

Harry scowled. "What do you care?"

Snape's eyebrow rose in the glistening moonlight as he slid onto the foot of Harry's bed, his spine as straight as a razor's edge. Harry watched him warily, sidling away. What the hell was Snape doing?

"I have always cared, Potter, even if it hasn't always seemed like it."

"Or never has," Harry muttered bitterly. He eyed the Potions Master warily. "How do I know I can trust you?"

Snape frowned. "Do you not recall the fall of the Dark Lord?"

Harry shook his head, his defensive posture weakening. "Not really. I get flashes every once in a while, but mostly it's a blank in my memory, like I've been Obliviated. I know he fell, but I don't know why or how. And there's not really anyone I can ask, since the only people besides Malfoy that I _know_ were there are either dead or in prison. And Malfoy's mind was broken, apparently, thanks to someone casting the Cruciatus on him. All I know for sure is that Death Eaters appeared at the school, the wards fell, and Dumbledore was too weak to fight. But he passed out even before Voldemort appeared, so he can't tell me what happened. He said there were probably others I could ask, but that it was best I come to it on my own. I don't suppose there's any chance _you_ were there?"

"I was," Snape answered with a slow nod.

"But you think I should come to it on my own, too."

"That is correct."

Harry slumped. "Fat lot of good you are."

Snape actually chuckled at that, startling Harry. If he'd been asked, before hearing the hypnotic laugh, he would have said that Snape didn't know _how_ to laugh. But there it was, in its soft, deep, rumbling reality. Harry thought it might even be more of a surprise than Snape's appearing on Privet Drive in the first place. He frowned.

"What are you even doing here?" He asked carefully. "We don't…we're not…I don't know, I suppose we've always been at odds, so I don't understand…why are you here? Really?"

Snape smirked. "It is as I said; I have come to check on you. You may recall, I have had access to your memories, and I know what sort of people your relatives are. I am also, regrettably, a subscriber of the _Daily Prophet_. If you would prefer, I can leave and send someone else."

"No!" Harry said loudly, startling himself. He blushed and quieted. "I…I don't want you to go."

Snape's eyebrow rose curiously, causing Harry's blush to deepen.

"Look, I know we're not friends, or even on the same page, but…" Harry hesitated. "Something is telling me that you're the nearest thing I have to a true friend while I'm trapped here in Little Whinging. _Something_ is telling me that, of everyone, even my friends, you're the one I can trust the most. Please stay."

Snape smirked, but there was kindness in it. "I will remain here until you sleep," He answered softly.

Harry smiled a little sheepishly as he sidled under his worn, hole-y sheet. He yawned, remembering that it was, indeed, the middle of the night, and he had only gotten to bed a few hours ago, after scrubbing clean the bricks of the fireplace per his aunt's orders. He blushed as Snape moved further onto the bed to lean against the wall, his legs crossed over the bedspread. Harry silently chuckled at himself. The bed was not large, and was in fact rather small, and yet he was still so short of stature, a mere 5' 4, that he had only to bend his knees ever so slightly to make room for the Potions Master's long, slender legs. He settled his head on his pillow, still smiling.

It wasn't long before the silence became deafening. Harry sighed and looked at his professor over his shoulder.

"Will you talk to me?" He asked, feeling stupid.

Snape only smirked. "Something in particular?"

Harry shrugged. "I suppose Potions, or Defense. I just can't stand the silence."

Snape gave another of his slow nods. "Very well, Mister Potter. Taking into consideration your low capabilities with Potions, I will begin with the basics."

Harry laid his head back down as Snape began to recite, entirely from memory, the First Year Potions text and his lectures that went with each new passage, with some additional notes on how you could improve a potion with differing methods than those listed in the books. Harry listened raptly until his eyes grew heavy and his brain drowsy. Snape's voice lulled him ever deeper into sleep until he knew no more.

Come morning, Harry would awake to find his bed as cold and empty as it had ever been, and he would nurture the vague disappointment in his heart. His hatred of the cruel, snarky older wizard had always been based more on the principle of retaliation. Now that the man's hatred seemed far gone, there seemed little point in continuing his own. After all, he had never truly hated anyone, except perhaps Voldemort. He couldn't even bring himself to hate his relatives; he couldn't fathom why Snape's mistreatment had somehow been different, had somehow mattered _more_.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry awoke again little more than a week later, and frowned around at his moonlit bedroom. Something had woken him, but he didn't know what. Had he been called? His aunt sometimes did that, when she couldn't sleep and wanted company. It was one of the few times she bothered to show kindness, in the dead of the night, when the 'normal' world slept. She would come to wake him, and be waiting downstairs with tea and biscuits. Had she come tonight?

"You talk in your sleep."

Harry started and looked at the shadowy figure near his busted armoire. His frown deepened.

"You're going to give me a heart attack if you keep randomly appearing like this. How are you even getting in?" He whispered.

Snape smirked in the clouded moonlight. "You mean how am I getting past the ridiculously mundane and simple Muggle locks?"

Harry smirked as well. "Fair enough. Another wellness check, then?"

Snape gave a slow nod, straightening from where he'd been leaning casually against the wall. He moved towards the bed.

"Why do you bother?" Harry asked. "You know I'm being mistreated, everyone knows that thanks to that Skeeter bitch."

"Does that mean I shouldn't check on you?" Snape inquired, still smirking.

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, I just mean…What would you do if I actually needed your help? I can't leave here, per Dumbledore's orders, until I turn 17. So it's not like you can take me away, even to the hospital."

Snape quirked an eyebrow as he sat at the foot of the bed. "Do you imagine, Mister Potter, that I do not have methods at my disposal with which to temper your relatives' foul mistreatment of you?"

Harry chuckled lightly at the thought. "Oh, I imagine you have a lot of methods, the question is whether or not you can, or would, use them against those beasts I call family."

Snape gave a deliciously evil chuckle. "I dare you to try and stop me."

Harry grinned. "There's the Snape I know and love."

The eyebrow quirked upwards again at that, and Harry blushed.

"You know what I mean," The Wizarding Savior murmured. He cleared his throat. "I think I remembered something about the Final Battle the other day."

Snape settled onto the bed to face his student. "Do tell."

Harry's blush deepened. "Well, it isn't much, and what I do remember is a bit…blurry, but…I think I remember you being there, when we arrived back at The Three Broomsticks. You convinced us to fly back to Dumbledore's office, rather than the Astronomy Tower. You probably saved our lives."

"There is that distinct possibility, and the nearest summation of my intentions," Snape said, smirking.

Harry realized the man was teasing him. He grinned. "Sure?" He asked, teasing back. "Sure you weren't there to give me a detention for being out of bounds?"

This elicited Snape's dark chocolate chuckle, and Harry felt a shiver race up his spine at the sound. He was unaware of the word orgasmic, but he was definitely aware that the sound made him feel pleasure the way nothing else ever had. His grin widened even as he felt a blush rise on his cheeks.

"You know…" He began softly, carefully. "I…I really like having you come to visit me. I'm sure you've got better things to do with your summer than check on a self-involved prat like me. But…I'm really glad you do come."

Snape leaned forward on the bed. "Then perhaps I should do it more often," He suggested.

Harry prayed the man wasn't teasing. His breath hitched when Snape continued to lean toward him, and a long-fingered hand slithered onto the back of his neck. He became certain, in that moment, that Snape intended to kiss him. And kiss him he did, thin lips pressing against the famous lightning bolt scar. Harry blushed as the Potions Master pulled away.

"Why did you do that?" He muttered uncomfortably. He hadn't been sure until he'd felt the crushing disappointment afterward that he'd really _wanted_ Snape to kiss him.

Snape gave a gesture which might have been a shrug. "You are terribly pale, in spite of your blush. It's something my mother used to do, to gauge my temperature. As I suspected, you are clammy and somewhat feverish. Are you ill?"

Harry scoffed. "I doubt it. I haven't gotten sick since I was about five. No, I probably just worked too hard today. Aunt Petunia had me doing the front _and_ back garden entirely before I'd be allowed to eat. All that work, combined with how little sleep I get thanks to nightmares, I'm not a bit surprised that I'm not looking quite fit."

Snape's gaze was one of concern and Harry waved it off.

"Don't worry, I'm okay, if a bit hungry. I'll be fine tomorrow, same as always."

Snape stared, his brow still slightly furrowed, for another moment before giving the slightest nod. "Then perhaps I should let you rest."

Harry's eyes widened with something akin to fear. "You aren't leaving, are you?"

The smirk returned. "Not if you desire otherwise."

"I do," Harry admitted with a blush. "I slept so well last time, no nightmares or anything. I had hoped you would…well, talk me to sleep again."

Snape gave a slow nod of acquiescence and shifted onto the bed into the same position he had taken up the last time. When Harry was assured the man intended to stay, he shifted himself and curled loosely under his sheet, allowing his feet to touch the leg that was both soft and unyielding at the end of his bed. He settled on his pillow, one hand curled under both the flattened pillow and his head. He closed his eyes as Snape's voice began to drift over him, picking up the same strain of Potions knowledge he had begun the last time. It wasn't long before sleep's gentle claws claimed him and dragged him down into the world of sweet, summery dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dumbledore had collapsed, and Harry could hear Death Eaters clawing at the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. Harry ran to his injured and worn mentor, only to discover the man was out cold. He had no idea of what to do, and he suddenly wished desperately that Snape had come back with them, rather than flying to the Astronomy Tower to head off his dark colleagues._

 _An explosion rocked the floor beneath Harry's feet, and suddenly there were footsteps climbing the moving staircase. Despite his fear, Harry stood tall and firm when the Death Eaters burst into the cluttered office, with Snape at the fore. Harry knew he should tremble under this betrayal, but all he could think was why Snape had come to save them only to kill them here. Harry struggled when Snape immediately crossed the office to grab his arm. What was Snape doing?_

" _I'll take Potter," He announced to the other Death Eaters closing in on them._

 _Bellatrix smirked maliciously as she turned to Dumbledore. "What about him?"_

 _Snape shook his head sharply. "He is Draco's to take, and as good as dead, anyway. Let's go."_

 _Harry fought and struggled as Snape dragged him to the door, and only stopped when Snape shook him sharply on the moving staircase. He was startled into immobility when the man spoke._

" _Potter, please," He whispered. "This is not how I would have wanted things, but the Dark Lord comes, and he will destroy the school looking for you. You are too young to be asked, but ask I must. Are you prepared to meet your destiny, to save the school?"_

 _Harry nodded slowly, realizing that Snape was not the traitor. He was the traitor, struggling against his destiny at the cost of the lives of his friends and classmates. Swallowing thickly, Harry straightened to his full, diminutive height. Snape gave a pained smile that looked remarkably foreign on his sallow features._

" _I'm sorry." He murmured. He startled Harry again by placing a gentle whisper of a kiss on the famous scar. "I will do what I can to assist you." Snape swore._

 _Harry gave a stiff nod and furrowed his brow into a look of determination. He was ready to greet Death._

Harry awoke from his dream slowly, and already it had begun to fade to a dim light on the distant horizon of his mind. All he could remember was a suffocating terror that still suffused his thoughts. His leg shifted under the sheet and met the familiar stiff leg of his professor. Harry did not stop to ask why the man had come, he knew by now that, while random, these visits would not stop, at least until he returned to the Burrow after his birthday. This was the fifth or sixth visit, he wasn't sure.

Feeling all the terror of his dream, and a deep sense of foreboding surrounding the Potions Master, Harry threw aside his sheet and crawled across the bed to curl into a ball with his head on a stiff shoulder. Snape's arm moved immediately to wrap around his shoulders, holding him close. Harry sniffled, suddenly convinced that _this_ was the dream, and curled tighter against the unyielding side.

"Is this okay?" Harry asked quietly.

"I will allow it," Snape answered. Harry could hear the smirk in the man's tone, and knew instinctively that the man didn't mind a bit. "What was your dream, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't remember. I just remember being more afraid than I've ever been in my life."

"Was it, perhaps, the Final Battle?" Snape asked carefully.

Harry shook his head and resisted the urge to pull away. Snape had made a point of asking every time he came whether Harry had remembered anything about the Final Battle. It was tiresome, especially since Harry couldn't seem to remember a damned thing. The thing that stopped him pulling away was the fear that the terror would return if he left the warmth of Snape's embrace. And it _was_ a rather nice embrace. Harry had all-but forgotten the near kiss, but Snape's arm around his shoulders was real, and the fingers clasped around his trembling hand in the man's lap, that was real, too.

"I don't know," Harry said aloud. "It was gone even before I woke up. I suppose it might've been. I just know…I-I don't want to be alone."

"You are _never_ alone, Potter. I am always here, whether you can see me or not."

Harry sighed, nuzzling his face into the pale neck. "Thank you," He whispered.

The Gryffindor felt himself begin to drift as Snape started to talk about the finesse and art of potion-making. They had moved onto poisons, and the herbs which made them most potent. Harry listened raptly even as Snape's voice carried him gently into sleep. He was safe, as long as Snape was there.

 _-Break-_

Harry was working in his Aunt's back garden, pulling weeds from between the begonias. He could already feel a sunburn forming on his neck, and he had hours yet before he would be allowed inside. All the doors and windows were securely locked while his relatives were In Town, and they would likely only return in time to eat a late dinner, if they didn't eat while they were out. At least he still had a ton of chores to keep him busy. Work always made time go by faster.

"You're mumbling."

The Wizarding Savior gave a strangled shout as he fell back onto the earth, staring wide-eyed at the apparition on the back porch. He glowered.

"What the hell, Snape?" Harry demanded.

The Potions Master smirked. "And a good day to you, as well, Potter."

Harry's scowl deepened. "Not so great, really. I'm stuck out here for the next 4 to 6 hours, with no food, while my relatives are yucking it up in London."

Snape continued to smirk. "I will assume, then, that your hunger is the reason for your attitude."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Good guess. What do you want?"

"I am merely checking on you, Potter," Snape insisted.

"You're a bit earlier than normal," Harry pointed out. "How did you even know my relatives weren't here? _I_ didn't know they'd be out of town today until I woke up to them ushering me out the back door."

"I have explained in the past that I am always nearby, even if you cannot see me, Potter," Snape explained gently.

"Oh," Harry mumbled. "Why do you still call me 'Potter'?"

"Would you prefer I didn't?" Snape asked in turn.

Harry shrugged, still working, "Well…yeah, actually. After what I saw in your memories in Fifth Year, hearing you call me 'Potter' just reminds me that my father, _and_ my mother, weren't what I thought they were. He was an ass, and she was a bit of a snob."

Snape gave a slight nod. "Very well. What would you rather I call you?"

"Just 'Harry'," Harry answered immediately. "Because, really, that's all I am, all I've ever been. I'm just 'Harry', not some prophesied savior."

"If that is what you wish, Just Harry," Snape said, smirking as he emphasized each word in the teasing title.

Harry chuckled and returned to his work. He had a lot to do before his relatives returned home. Snape surprised him again by appearing at his side, dragon hide gloves covering his long-fingered hands, and began to pluck out the weeds alongside the 17 year old. The Gryffindor considered demurring, and telling his professor it wasn't in the least bit necessary for him to help, but he thought better of it. Snape wasn't the sort of person to take on any task lightly, and Harry sort of liked the company. Snape on the porch was one thing; but Snape down here, with him in the dirt and the mud…this Snape was somehow more…intimate.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry awoke with a gasp. This time he _knew_ he'd been dreaming about the Final Battle, but like the last time, the details had already begun to fade. He moved immediately to the end of his bed, where Snape's raised arm beckoned him into it's warmth. The man had made a habit of somehow being present whenever the worst of his nightmares struck. He curled against the man's side, his head on a surprisingly comfortable shoulder.

"The Final Battle?"

Harry nodded, wrapping his arms around Snape's slim middle.

"What was it? Did you remember something new?"

Harry sighed. "No. I know I was dreaming about it, but I can't remember the dream."

Snape sighed as well. "It will come in time."

"Couldn't…" Harry started, trailing off. "Nevermind."

"What, Harry?" Snape inquired gently. Since the day in the garden, he had stopped calling him 'Potter' altogether, and had yet to even slip.

Harry sat up to look the man in the eye. "Couldn't you use Legilimency?" He asked. "To _make_ me remember?"

Snape smirked, his fingers carding through Harry's hair. "Not unless you wished me to break your mind in the process."

A light blush tinted Harry's cheeks as he chuckled. "Oh. Best not, then."

Snape chuckled as well, and his arm rose in invitation a second time. Harry curled against the firm rib cage, and listened as the man began to speak of mundane things, like how best to store Dragon's blood.

 _-Break-_

A few days before Harry's birthday, he woke again to Snape in his room. Like he had the first time, he awoke to the feel of cool lips on his cheek. Unlike the last time, he was more aware of the feeling, and a sleepy smile stretched his lips as he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. Snape took up his place at the end of the bed, one hand touching Harry's foot through the aged sheet. Harry sat up completely and turned on his mattress to face his professor. His legs shifted under the sheet, and he crossed them, leaning unconsciously forward. Snape smirked.

"You're smiling."

Harry nodded.

"It seems quite some time since I have seen you do so, so readily."

Harry shrugged, his smile widening. "I was dreaming of you," He whispered. "It was a good dream, full of fairy tale endings."

Snape chuckled lightly, eliciting the shiver Harry had become used to crawling up his spine at the sound. "Do tell, Harry."

The Gryffindor smirked. "Alright…but only after you tell me something of yourself. Fair is fair, after all."

"What would you have me tell you?" Snape asked, smirking mischievously.

Harry blushed. "Anything…everything…I want to know about you. How you grew up, what you were like as a child, your favorite anything, what you want most in the world…everything. You're always so careful never to reveal yourself to anyone, and I want you to be able to confide in me…the same way I can in you."

Snape furrowed his brow uncertainly. "That is quite a tall order, Harry. I have never…I am unaccustomed to such bald curiosity, especially in regards to myself."

"Please?" Harry insisted quietly, leaning forward further, a hand on the sheets to steady him. "I know it's a lot to ask, but…You know how earnestly I trust you. It hurts me to think that that trust isn't returned."

For a moment, Snape visibly hesitated. And then he was moving. For a breathless moment, Harry thought he meant to rise, but instead the Potions Master turned to face him, one leg folding onto the bed. Harry grinned when impossibly long and cool fingers curled around his own on the sheet. Snape smirked, and it might have been a kind smile on another, less imposing face.

"Very well, Harry," The Potions Master murmured, his thumb gently gliding over Harry's knuckles. "I grew up much as you have. My father was a Muggle, and drank heavily. He was a violent drunk, and often beat my mother and me. Do not feel for me, however, as I had my mother to protect me from the worst of it. Some mornings she would come and wake me early, and the two of us would escape to Diagon Alley. It was there she taught me to love the art of Potions, in the back room of the Apothecary. The owner attended Hogwarts with her in their youth, and he is still apt to be affectionate towards me on my trips to his shop. As for what I was like as a child, I suppose you would call me shy. My father was at great pains to tell me daily that I was worthless and disgusting, and this left me convinced that no one could ever be my friend. As a result, I was painfully shy, and the bullying I faced in my Muggle school did little to change this. Your mother was my first friend, and in many ways my last. Since her death, I have allowed myself to get close to no one, lest I feel that pain of loss again."

Harry frowned as those fingers tightened around his own. "…Severus…" He murmured sadly.

Snape smirked, but couldn't keep his own sadness from touching his eyes. "It is alright, Harry, it was my own decision, and I have never regretted it until now. Shall I continue?"

Harry shook his head, swallowing the tears that stung behind his eyes. "No, that's alright. I…I want to hear more about you, about your likes and dislikes, but I don't want you to feel like you have to share, with me or anyone."

The smile in Severus' eyes lost it's sadness, his other hand touching Harry's cheek. "I am more than willing to share myself with you, Harry. You must know that your trust in me is returned ten-fold."

Harry shook his head, frowning. "No, I _don't_ know that," He admitted. "But it is all I ask for. There are so many who want me to trust them without reciprocation…Dumbledore, McGonagall, even my friends. The only people in the world who have ever shown absolute trust in me are the twins, Fred and George, and Luna Lovegood. Even _Neville_ doesn't really trust me, because he sees me as this untouchably powerful Wizard."

"I trust you, Harry, completely and without question," Snape murmured.

Harry looked up from where he'd been frowning at his sheets, and immediately registered the fact that Severus had somehow shifted closer without him noticing. Even now, the man was leaning further towards him, and it caused Harry's breath to catch in his throat. The hand that had been entangled with his on the bed slid gently over his forearm, and Harry felt his eyelids flutter, half-closed already, as he too leaned forward. And then Snape's questing fingers touched his bicep, and very real pain arced like lightning across the surface of his brain. He pulled back with a hiss, drawing his arm away from the offending touch.

Snape scowled, and his hand shot out like a snake to grip Harry's elbow. He pulled Harry's arm into the light cast by the moon through the lone window, and twisted the arm slightly to better examine his bare skin. His scowl deepened as his eyes lighted on the large bruise and the gash that sat in the center. Black eyes flashed with internal fire as he looked up into Harry's green gaze. The Gryffindor blushed, pulling his arm out of the gentle grip.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Harry murmured. "Uncle pulled out his belt when I dropped a plate at dinner, and I wasn't fast enough to dodge him. The bruise is from Dudley, who thought it would be fun to compound on his father's punishment. He may be slow in most things, but no one will ever accuse Dudley of being slow to box. And he may _look_ fat, but he hits like a bull."

Snape frowned and pulled away, pursing his thin lips. Harry could tell he wanted to say something, or do something, and could see the almost heroic effort the man was making to do neither. With a sigh, Harry turned and lay down with his head on the pillow. A single tear, hot and angry, slipped from his eye to soak into the fabric beneath his head. He curled into a tight ball, easily ignoring the pain of lying on his injured arm. The man's silence made it clear: he was a freak. Now would come the pity, the same pity he got from Hermione and Ron whenever they saw the scars his uncle had left him with over the years.

"Don't be stupid," Snape murmured suddenly, his mouth impossibly close to Harry's ear.

The Gryffindor, started and half-turned in surprise, only to find his progress prevented by a stiff body lying very near to his. Snape had lain down somehow without his notice, and was now stretched out between him and the wall. Harry blushed a mighty red as his skin tingled wherever he felt the man's distinct energy less than an inch from his body. The flesh of his shoulder was alight with electricity where it touched the man's solid, clothed chest. He cleared his throat.

"W-what're you-?"

"Is this alright?" Snape murmured quietly, his lips ghosting across the shell of Harry's ear. He ran a cold hand over Harry's uninjured bicep.

Harry couldn't stop the breathy chuckle that escaped him. He cleared his throat again and hoped he sounded confident when he said, "I will allow it."

This time Harry felt it as Snape shifted behind him, situating himself more comfortably. When the man had done, his hand still rested hesitantly on Harry's arm. Sucking a deep breath, Harry reached around with the hand that had been under his pillow and slipped his fingers between Snape's. Severus' hand moved willingly as he pulled the longer arm around his middle to be held against his small, muscular chest. Harry knew he was still blushing, but couldn't seem to stop it as his breath trembled. Snape shifted closer, his body almost touching Harry's completely, but falling just short. Harry gasped as a gentle kiss was planted on the tip of his ear.

"You aren't a freak, Harry."

Before Harry could respond, perhaps ask how Snape knew the course of his thoughts, Severus began speaking gently of his life's work. He had last spoken of antidotes, and he continued in this vein, explaining the potions one could use to determine the poison a victim had been given. It was some time before Harry was able to relax enough to sleep, however; constantly aware of the hairs-breadth of space between his body and his professor's, he found himself almost short of breath, and each trembling breath he managed would rock him back the slightest bit, pressing him back against the thin, heavily-clothed chest behind him. At last, he forced himself to go through the meditation technique Hermione had taught him, and his mind was finally allowed to drift into the gentle, all-consuming darkness of sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The following day, Harry and his relatives awoke to a note in the center of the kitchen table, where Harry usually served breakfast. The note was simple, a threat of retaliation if Harry Potter was injured further. His aunt paled, and his cousin flushed in fear, but his uncle had chuckled darkly, crumpling the note in his fist and standing from the table. He approached Harry, who stood his ground.

"Do you think I'm stupid, boy?" Vernon growled. "No one's been in this house except the four of us, and your bird's been gone all summer. Did you think this little trick would save you from the beatings you rightfully deserve?"

Harry paled, but continued to stand his ground. "I didn't write it. That isn't even my handwriting."

"He probably had one of his freaky friends write it for him before he left school, Dad," Dudley joined in. Seeing Harry threatened or beaten always put him in a good mood.

Vernon bared his teeth under his bristly mustache. He dropped the note on the floor. "Pick up your little lie boy."

Harry, who knew Vernon intended to humiliate him, even if only in front of his aunt and cousin, refused. When he didn't move, Vernon's hand flew up, back-handing him hard enough to send him sprawling onto the floor. Harry scowled against the pain in his cheek and eye. "It's not mine," He insisted.

Vernon's slippered foot found his ribs. "I'll not have liars in this house!" The man roared.

Before Harry could move, Vernon had grabbed him by the hair at the back of his head. He dragged Harry up from the floor, and began leading his nephew through the house. Harry's eyes widened in terror when he saw their destination. He began struggling against his uncle's grip.

"No, Uncle Vernon, I'm sorry, I swear it!"

"I'll show you what happens to liars in this house, boy," Vernon growled. He pulled open the door to the cupboard under the stairs and flung Harry in.

Harry, who was much larger than the last time he'd been in here, bounced painfully off of the wall, landing in a crumpled heap on top of the items Petunia had begun storing in here. The door slammed shut behind him, and he heard the twin bolts slide into place. He pressed against the door with all his might, but it wouldn't budge.

"No, Uncle, please! Let me out!" He cried.

A hand slammed into the door where his head was, and the force made his teeth rattle in his jaw. "You'll learn to accept your punishments, boy!" Vernon growled. "And you can stay in here until those freaks come to retrieve you in a few days. I've had all I can take of your freakish ways, you hear me?!"

"Please, Uncle! Don't leave me in here!" Harry pleaded.

It was the first time since he was very young that he'd pleaded against his uncle's brand of punishment, but his fear had overridden his reason. He heard Vernon chuckle again before walking away. At the sound of those heavy footsteps retreating from the door, Harry began to weep openly, curling as tightly into a ball against the door as he could. A nasty side-effect of having Voldemort in his head, and the nightmares that accompanied this possession, he was deathly afraid of the dark. Until now, he had been able to hide his fear from everyone, because most dark places had some source of light. It was only the pitch black that terrified him, and Uncle had been at great pains in Harry's childhood to ensure this room was as black as they came.

As Harry wept against the door, he felt the ghost of fingers in his hair. He started at first, and the touch vanished as he stared around at the dark. Feeling his fear creeping in on him again, suffocating him, he buried his face in his arms and tried to control his breathing, lest he pass out. Again the fingers came, carding through his hair tenderly. He recognized the feeling now, and slowly the tension began to leave him. Somewhere deep down, he knew those impossibly long fingers weren't really there, _couldn't_ really be there, but it didn't stop him taking comfort in the memory. Feeling his way past the items piled into the closet, he found his old cot and crawled onto it, pushing aside the things which Petunia had stacked there. He curled up on the tiny mattress, the wall just a whisper against his back. Very carefully, he situated himself exactly as he'd been the night before, and allowed himself to imagine Severus was lying there behind him, protecting him from the monsters in the dark. He forced himself to recall Snape's every word which had so lulled him the night before. As if by magic, he felt his breathing slow as he began to drift in and out of sleep. He had slept so well the night before that it was unfathomable to truly sleep here, especially with the cold grip of fear around his heart, but he drifted, and it was in this way that he survived his day in the dark.

That night, Harry was startled by the door opening. He sat up like a spring, quickly wiping away the tears that hadn't really stopped the entire day. Vernon glared sourly in, lit from behind by the light in the front hall. Harry stared back, not daring to hope that he was being fetched from his punishment early. Vernon did this sometimes, when he grew tired of Petunia's less spectacular meals, or was angry and needed someone to vent on. It was too soon to be the former, but even so, Harry prayed it wasn't the latter. Those beatings were always the worst.

"Get out here, boy," Vernon growled, moving away from the door.

Harry decided quite quickly that even Vernon's worst beating was better than staying here in the dark. He scrambled immediately out of the cupboard and stood in the hall. Vernon jerked his thumb at the living room door, and Harry scuttled past, flinching in expectation. However, the harsh cuff he was accustomed to didn't come. Vernon only followed him silently into the living room. There, Harry stood waiting nervously, doing his best to look brave before his cruel relatives, who stood in front of the couch looking especially cross and disheveled. Ordinarily, he would have no trouble standing tall before his three greatest tormentors, but the fear from the cupboard still held its icy grip on his heart, and he was terrified he would be returned there as soon as they had done whatever it is they had summoned him out for.

"Boy," Vernon growled. "We're…That is, we're…" He cleared his throat. "Your aunt and cousin and I…" He cleared his throat again.

"Oh, for heaven's- We're _sorry_ ," Petunia bit out angrily. Dudley nodded enthusiastically, looking terrified, and Vernon grunted, giving his own stiff nod.

"That's all you'll get from us," Vernon said roughly. "So you can put a stop to all this damnable business."

Harry gaped at his relatives. He had to be hearing things. " _What_ damnable business?" He asked in confusion.

"Stop the bad things, alright?" Dudley demanded in a trembling voice. "We're right tired of it, Cousin."

Vernon stepped forward and shoved a scrap of paper into Harry's chest. "You got a guardian angel, Boy. You tell 'em to stop, or no amount of bad luck will stop me beating you into a bloody pulp."

With that said, Vernon led his family from the room. Harry looked down at the note in his hands and smiled at the drifting, looping scrawl he found there. ' _You were warned.'_ Yeah, he definitely had a guardian angel…and he wouldn't trade him for the world.


	6. Chapter 6

A week into Harry's stay at the Burrow, Harry awoke to Hermione arguing loudly with the twins in the kitchen. He shuffled past them to the table, where Mrs. Weasley was already setting out a plate for him. He sat down and immediately started in on the cup of coffee she'd also provided. As he slowly came out of the fog of sleep, he began to listen to the heated words passing further down the table.

"What are they arguing about?" Harry asked, turning to Ron.

The red head shrugged, and Ginny rolled her eyes. "Fred and George are working on a new potion for their shop. They won't tell us what it does, or at least what it's _supposed_ to do, just that they can't get it right, even though they're supposed to release it at Christmas. Apparently, every time they add the holly berries, their cauldron melts. They've apparently gone through a dozen cauldrons already."

Harry turned with more interest towards the argument at the end of the table.

"Hermione, we've already tried that!"

"Well if you won't listen to me, you can just keep melting your cauldrons!"

"We _are_ listening-!"

"But you aren't telling us-!"

"Anything we don't already know!"

"We've already tried everything we can think of!"

"Well, have you tried substituting the holly berries with just the leaves?!"

"Yes!" The twins shouted simultaneously.

Harry looked over to see Hermione pursing her lips, which was a sure sign this argument wouldn't be coming to an end any time soon.

"What about peppermint?" He suggested. Hermione and the twins looked at him askance. "No, really, I know it sounds too simple, but it really works. Holly berries react poorly with most ingredients, and the only way to stabilize them is with peppermint. Any Third Year could tell you that."

Hermione and the twins continued to stare at him, and Harry became suddenly aware of silence in the kitchen. He looked around to find everyone staring at him. He blushed, but could understand their looks. He was supposed to be terrible at Potions, and he doubted he would've recalled such a random detail on his own, if it hadn't been for Severus' midnight lectures. After a moment, Mrs. Weasley, bless her, returned to fixing a breakfast fit for an army. This seemed to signal the others, and they gradually stopped staring. The twins moved down the table and each clapped him on the back.

"See, now _that's_ helpful!" Said Fred.

"Thanks a ton, Harry!" George added.

And with that, they apparated out of the house, startling their poor mother. Harry turned back to his breakfast and ignored his gaping friends. Hermione moved down the table as well and took up the seat beside him.

"Since when do you know Potions?" She asked incredulously.

Harry shrugged, smothering an urge to blush again. "I dunno. I was bound to pick up _something_ from Snape's lectures. And winter is my favorite time of year, so of _course_ the stuff I'd remember would have to do with that time of year."

Hermione frowned. "I suppose that does make sense," She murmured thoughtfully. "You know, you've been kind of mopey this summer. Did something happen at your relatives?"

Harry shrugged again. "Nothing more than the usual. I'm just…I still can't remember anything about the Final Battle, y'know? So that's been kind of bugging me. Sorry if I haven't been great company because of it. I really am trying to move on."

"Well, you know you have us, right?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, Harry," Ron said. "You can always come to us. I know we can't help you remember, since we weren't there, but you don't have to shoulder it alone."

"I-" Harry bit his tongue. He had come so close to saying 'I haven't been'. But then his friends would want to know who else had been shouldering his burden of remembering. And he couldn't tell them. There wasn't anything bad about Severus visiting him, but Severus was _his_ …even if he didn't get to see him again until they were back at the school. He certainly hadn't seen him since his arrival at the Burrow. Hell, he hadn't seen him since the night before the first, and last, apology his relatives had ever given him. Still, those moments, in the dark, they were his, and he no longer felt the need to share _everything_ with his friends, who had never done the same. Instead, he shrugged a third time. "Thanks guys. I'll try to keep that in mind."

Hermione smiled, satisfied, and accepted the plate of food Mrs. Weasley brought her. Harry was immensely grateful that his friends left him alone after that, consumed with talk about the homework he'd already finished but Ron and Ginny had barely started. The reprieve gave him time enough to sink into a deep sulk. He missed Severus a lot, and had done his best to avoid thinking about him until now. He understood why the visits had stopped, but it didn't mean he had to like it.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry awoke slowly, listening for what had woken him. He could hear the muffled _clink_ of the ghoul in the attic above Ron's room, but otherwise nothing stirred this high up. He opened his eyes, sitting up, and looking around hopefully. His enthusiasm was rewarded, and a grin split his face as he saw the Potions Master silhouetted in front of the window nearest his bed.

"Severus!" He launched from his bed into the man's arms, which circled his waist encouragingly. "I missed you."

"Sh," Snape said, mindful of Ron snoring in the other bed. "I've missed you, too, Harry. I wasn't sure you would want me to come here, though."

"Why wouldn't I?" Harry asked, honestly befuddled as he pulled away.

Severus ran his thumb gently over Harry's prominent cheekbone. "Nevermind that; how is your summer going, now that you're away from your relatives?"

Harry shrugged. "Is it too corny for me to say its better now that you're here?"

Severus chuckled. "A bit. I will assume your friends have been accommodating?"

"More so than usual," Harry groused. "They've been walking on eggshells around me, and Ginny's gone back to being too in awe of me to speak to me. I wish I knew what happened in the Final Battle. Whatever it was has to be less interesting than whatever they've made up in their heads."

Snape's fingers carded through Harry's hair warmly. "Still nothing?" He asked in concern.

Harry shook his head. "No, just flashes. Lots of different colored lights, which I can assume were spells. And I remember someone shouting my name, but, when I try to focus on who, it slips away. I wish the Ministry still had control of the Dementors. Surely the Final Battle has become my worst memory."

"You would still only see the worst moment," Severus explained.

Harry pulled away to sit on his bed. "I know," He murmured. "But…Maybe if I could remember the worst, the rest would come with it. I suppose it doesn't matter, the Dementors are in the wind, so to speak."

Severus sat on the edge of the bed beside him. "It will come in time, Harry. You shouldn't let yourself be consumed by it. All things in their own time." He laid a gentle hand on the back of Harry's neck. "You should sleep."

Harry looked up into the unfathomable black gaze. "You'll stay?"

Snape smirked. "Always."

With a grin, Harry hugged the man again before crawling under the blankets of his bed. Even in the summer, Ron's room was so high up that there was a slight chill in the air. Once he was situated comfortably on his side, Severus lay down beside him, his arm wrapping securely over Harry's middle.

"Alright?" Snape asked quietly.

Harry nodded.

"What shall I speak of tonight?"

Harry couldn't help a chuckle. "Potions, definitely Potions."

He felt Severus lean over him. "Dare I ask what is funny about Potions?"

"Not Potions, per se," Harry chuckled. "It's just something that happened at breakfast yesterday. Hermione and the twins were arguing about a new potion for their shop, and thanks to your lectures about Potions, I wound up ending the argument by making a suggestion that was actually useful. Surprised the hell out of my friends."

Severus chuckled, and Harry felt it rumble against his back. Cool lips touched his ear. "It is good to know I still have some uses."

Harry twisted under his bed clothes so that he was facing the man again. "You're very useful," He murmured, touching the man's gaunt cheek. "Even without the war, there are still people who need you."

"You are kind to say so," Snape said, his hand shifting on Harry's back. "But I fear my usefulness has nearly run it's course."

"Don't say that," Harry moaned. "Please…even if no one else can admit they need you, you must know that _I_ need you."

Severus pressed his forehead against Harry's. "I do know that, Harry. It is why I am here. Sleep now, there will be time for discussion later, I promise."

Harry settled himself in his new position, curled into Snape's lightly heaving chest. He listened to the heartbeat, slow and deliberate, and allowed the man's voice to lull him into peaceful slumber.

 _-Break-_

A little more than a week later, Severus came again. Harry awoke as soon as the bed dipped near his feet. He sat up, stretching, and smiled at the man.

"You're here," He murmured quietly. He leaned over and wrapped his arms around the slim neck. "It seems an age since I saw you last."

Severus returned the hug willingly. "Are you well, Harry?"

The Gryffindor grinned. "As can be expected. Ginny's talking to me again, at least. What about you?"

"As well as can be expected," Severus answered, pulling out of the hug. "Have you had any dreams lately?"

Harry scoffed a laugh. "Dozens. But nothing I can remember, at least not about the Final Battle, which I know is what you're asking about. I've missed you, you know. Why have you stayed away so long?"

"Do you need me to come more often?"

"No," Harry said, rolling his eyes at the concern in Severus' tone. "Not _need_ , per se, I just _want_ you to come more often. Do I need a motive now to want to see you?"

Severus smirked. "Cheeky brat. Are you sure nothing has happened?"

Harry frowned, hesitating. "Well, there was one thing," He said softly. "I suppose there's no point keeping it from you. Ron and I got in a fight the other day. I told you that Ginny has started treating me normal, right? Well, her first act as a return to normal was to try to kiss me. I-I pulled away, and when I tried to explain that I just didn't feel that way about her anymore, she sort of flew off the handle. Started crying and screaming about me leading her on. That's when Ron got involved. As soon as he heard her side of the story, he punched me."

"I see," Severus said. "So you meant that you fought literally."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I'm not a very good fighter. I'm better at dodging than hitting, and eventually I got so fed up that I cast _Levicorpus_ on him."

Severus smirked. "Ah, one of my better inventions."

Harry blushed. "Yeah, I sort of figured it was _you_ I'd become so enamored with in that book. Why else would you ask for my Potions text, if you didn't know firsthand what was in it? Anyway, I finally got Ron to calm down enough to hear my side of the story. He's still pissed at me, same as Ginny is, but at least now he doesn't think I was deliberately leading on his baby sister. I really thought I was attracted to her last year. Now, well…I don't know why, but I just don't feel the same anymore. Maybe it's because, remember all of it or not, I've survived a war, and she will _never_ understand what I went through the last six years."

Severus cupped his cheek gently, and Harry leaned into the warmth. "There are very few who would understand fully, Harry."

"You do," Harry pointed out. He blushed when he realized what he'd said. "I-I mean…oh, I don't know _what_ I mean. I just…I'm really glad you're here, is all. Now come on, it's your turn. Why have you stayed away for so long?"

Severus drew back. "I've been afraid to come," He admitted softly.

Harry frowned and pulled away slightly to look into the glistening onyx gaze. "Why? It-it isn't something I've done-"

"No, Harry."

"Then, what-?"

"Something I've been struggling with," Severus answered gently. "You need not concern yourself."

Harry scowled. "And what if I _want_ to concern myself?" He asked hotly. "I told you, I want you to trust me. Part of that is sharing things like what's bothering you at any given time."

Severus hesitated visibly, and Harry frowned.

"It is me, isn't it?" Snape nodded. "What have I done? Whatever it is, I'll fix it!"

"No, Harry, that isn't it. You haven't done _anything_ ," Severus insisted.

Harry's frown deepened. "Then why-?"

"I'm sorry, Harry. I cannot tell you," Severus interrupted. "It is far too personal."

"So you _don't_ trust me," Harry accused.

"I do, Harry," Severus swore.

Harry scowled and lay on his bed, curled into a tight ball as tears leaked from his startling green eyes to soak his pillow. He was angry, but more than that, he was hurt. All this time he had foolishly convinced himself that the trust and friendship he'd felt between them was mutual. To learn now that that was not the case…

"You should go," Harry murmured, refusing to look at the man sitting at the foot of his bed.

He heard Snape sigh noisily. "Harry-"

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say, Snape," Harry growled, still refusing to look.

The weight on his bed shifted. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry sniffled silently as he felt the weight on his bed vanish completely. After a moment, he chanced a look around. Snape had gone. Burrowing his face into his pillow, Harry wept. It almost didn't matter that the man apparently didn't care to come here, almost didn't matter that their friendship wasn't as real as Harry had thought. He'd just sent away the one thing that kept the nightmares at bay, the one person he'd convinced himself to fully trust. He'd lost the one person he cared for the most, probably forever. The man's betrayal felt less painful than the idea that Harry would never share a late night with him again.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been three days, and Harry's friends had become obnoxious in their pursuit of finding out what was bothering him. Hermione had taken to randomly guessing about his dire attitude, and Ron had begun doing everything in his power to annoy him until he spilled the beans, so to speak. Harry didn't even want to think about Ginny, who had convinced herself that his morose mood was due solely to him being afraid to tell her he was still in love, as if he had ever been. He swore that if she pressed her breasts against him in an attempt to entice him, or tried to talk about the future they might've shared again, he might very well blow his lid and tell them all to bugger off. Why did they even care this much? Hermione was normally too wrapped up in her work to notice anyone's particular mood, and Ron was still pissed about Harry dumping his sister. Why couldn't they just leave him alone with his depression, pretend it didn't exist as they always had?

"Harry…"

The Gryffindor turned. He'd taken to walking through the Weasley's orchard to escape his friends. Standing beside the nearest blossoming tree was the very man who had caused his sadness. Harry hugged his arms against a sudden, inexplicable chill as he looked away.

"What do you want?" He asked.

Snape stepped towards him, and reached out to gently lay his hands on Harry's crossed arms. "To apologize."

Harry looked up, his eyes swimming with tears. "But you still won't tell me, will you?"

Severus shook his head. Harry frowned and pulled away from the man.

"Then don't bother!" He shouted angrily. "I _trusted_ you, Severus! Do you have any idea how rare that is for me, to put absolute faith in someone?!"

Snape didn't move. "Harry-"

"No!" Harry shouted. "I don't want your half-assed apology! Just go away, and leave me alone!"

"I'm not going to do that, Harry," Snape said soothingly. He moved towards the Gryffindor and Harry stiffened as the man's arms encompassed him. Snape held his head against his chest. "I'm sorry, Harry. More than you will ever know, I'm so sorry."

Harry sobbed against the thin chest. "It isn't fair," He murmured, relaxing into the embrace. "I wanted so badly for you to be the one I shared myself with. I wanted you to be the man who finally had all of me."

"Oh, Harry," Severus murmured against the top of his head. "I'm sorry. I know it means less now, but I swear, I _do_ trust you, completely. There are just some things that are better left unsaid. Someday I will tell you, I promise you that, but for now you must continue to trust that my feelings for you are unchanged."

Harry slowly uncrossed his arms and slid them beneath the man's cloak to wrap around the trim, masculine waist. " _I'm_ sorry," He murmured. "I thought I'd pushed you away forever."

"Never," Severus said with conviction. "I told you, I will always be around, even if your anger means I must watch you from a distance."

Harry shook his head. "No…" He answered. "I don't want to lose you, no matter how angry I am." He lifted his eyes to the stern features above him. "Someday I hope I can teach you that your trust is as safe with me as mine is with you."

"Harry…" Severus murmured, his hand cupping a tan cheek. "I-"

"No more, Severus," Harry said, turning away. He sat on the stiff dirt beneath their feet and stared down the long row of trees. "I understand that you won't tell me, and that you believe your faith in me is unchanged, but the two cannot exist simultaneously. Someday… someday I'll prove to you that I can be trusted. For now, I just want you to be with me, if that's still what _you_ want."

Severus sat beside him, and Harry leaned tiredly against him. He'd had so little good sleep since their argument. Nightmares had plagued him, not only of the horrors he'd witnessed in the war, but visions of his and Severus' past. How they had hated and distrusted one another.

Severus wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulder and held him gently in the broken shade of the Weasley orchard.

"I'm not going anywhere, Harry."

 _-Break-_

The next time Severus came to visit it was only a few days before Harry was due to return to Hogwarts. Harry, after having had another fight with Ron, was out walking the orchard behind the Burrow. He had just made up his mind to go back when Severus appeared out of the surrounding foliage.

"Severus!" Harry exclaimed, unable to stop his excitement at seeing the man.

"Harry," The man answered with a smirk. "What are you doing out here?"

Harry shrugged. "I had another fight with Ron. Ginny's basically forgiven me ever since I apologized, but Ron's still being a prat."

Severus approached and drew Harry against his chest. "Dare I ask why?"

The Gryffindor chuckled. "The usual, I suppose," He said, wrapping his arms around the man's neck. "We went shopping yesterday, and he…well, he's jealous. When I went to Gringotts I found out that I had a much larger inheritance than I'd believed, a whole other vault, in fact. Today, he started bitching at me about making his mum buy his new wand in Third Year when I apparently could've afforded it myself, and the awful hand-me-down dress robes he had to wear in Fourth Year."

"You have a strange preference in friends, Harry," Severus commented glibly.

Harry chuckled again. "No kidding. I'm just glad Hermione's staying out of it this time, so at least they aren't ganging up on me." He pulled away and sat down at the base of a tree, under the shifting shade of it's leafy branches.

Severus joined him on the ground. "Ah, yes, Miss Granger. You have said very little about her."

Harry shrugged. "There isn't much to tell. Whether or not that's a good thing, I couldn't say. She's been doing her best to pretend like nothing's changed, but…I can sense that she's…hesitating. It's like she wants to say something, but is too afraid to. I imagine, once she finally works up the courage, whatever she has to say will either make or break our friendship."

"That is a surprisingly perceptive way of looking at things," Severus commented casually.

Harry smirked. "Well, I have my moments."

Severus smirked as well, tweaking Harry's ear, and they were silent for a long minute.

"Severus?" Harry said finally.

"Hm?" The Potions Master inquired gently, his black gaze swinging around to meet Harry's imploring green.

Harry blushed. "I'm sorry I pushed you, before," He told the man quietly. "I've been thinking about it, and… You don't have to tell me everything. I was just being a real prat. Just because you're afraid or embarrassed, or whatever it is that's keeping you from telling me, that doesn't mean our friendship is any less for it. I'm sure at some point there will be something _I'm_ too afraid to tell you, but even so it won't mean I trust you any less. And I'm willing to wait, like you said. I know someday you'll tell me everything, and I look forward to that day, but I'm also happy for what we have now, you know?"

Severus smirked. "I know, Harry, and thank you. I swear on my own grave, your patience will one day be rewarded."

Harry chuckled. "That's an odd thing to say. But I appreciate the sentiment." He leaned against the man and stared out at the sinking sun through the trees. "Where were we last?"

The Potions Master chuckled. "I believe I was telling you about Fourth Year potions."

Harry nodded, and situated himself more comfortably against his friend as the deep, gravelly voice washed over him, hypnotizing him as he listened raptly to the man's rumbling commentary. He was so absorbed, he barely heard the distant rumble of thunder on the eastern horizon.

 _-Break-_

Harry awoke as the curtains around his bed were drawn back. He'd taken to closing them each night, because Severus had come every night since his return to the school. He sat up as the Potions Master took up his place on the bed and shut the curtains again. Harry cast a weak _Lumos_ , illuminating their dark space with a gentle light. He frowned at his friend as Severus smiled gently back at him.

"I had your class today," Harry murmured. This had been only the second day of classes since their return, as September 1st had landed on a Friday. He'd had both Defense and Potions today, and the Potions Master had been teaching neither. "Why aren't you teaching?"

Severus' smile slipped a little. "I have fulfilled my purpose at this school," He admitted. "I felt no desire to return to teaching, once I was finally free."

"Then why are you here?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

"I am here for you," Severus said simply. Harry could see the honesty in the glistening black gaze. "Have you remembered any more about the Final Battle?"

Harry shook his head. "You ask that every night, and the answer is always the same. I know you think my being back at school will bring the memories back, but it isn't working. I just can't seem to remember anything, no matter what I do."

Severus sighed and together they shifted around until he was spooning Harry against his chest. Harry sighed as well as he pulled his blanket up over them.

"Why is it so important that I remember?" He asked.

Severus shrugged behind him. "I cannot say."

Harry frowned again. "That's not an answer. Do you mean you can't say, or you don't know?"

"I suppose it is both," Severus murmured against the top of his head. "It is necessary that you stop blocking the memories for your own mental health. But I couldn't say why it is so important to _me_ in particular."

Harry nodded, and burrowed further back against the stiff body behind him. Severus began to speak of Potions again, and Harry felt himself beginning to drift off almost immediately. The man's voice was nothing if not hypnotic.


	9. Chapter 9

The night of Halloween, Harry lay awake in his bed, feeling peculiar and raw. He had gone through the day very aware that everyone was watching him, and waiting to see what would come. Every Halloween before this, something had gone horribly wrong, and it had always somehow revolved around him. He'd been admittedly on edge himself, waiting to hear that he'd messed up in his defeat of the Dark Lord and left some part of the man alive again, or that the remaining Death Eaters were invading the school. Neither happened, but still everyone had continued to watch him with wary eyes. He'd finally grown tired of being exhibit A in Hogwarts' freak show, and had escaped halfway through the feast. His stupid feet had carried him to the dungeons, to the office of the man he wanted more than anything to see. Of course, Severus hadn't been there, and Harry had been forced to come up with an excuse when the new Potions professor had arrived at what was now _her_ office.

"Harry?"

The Gryffindor sat up as his curtains opened to reveal his friends. "What do you want?" He asked curtly.

Ron scowled. "You don't have to be a prat. We just came to check on you."

Hermione smacked her new boyfriend. "That's not how you show concern, Ronald," She hissed.

Harry sighed. "I'm really not in the mood, guys. I just want to go to bed, and pray that tomorrow will put a stop to everyone staring at me like I'm a fish in a bowl."

"But, Harry," Hermione started gently. "You can't just hide away-"

"I can sure as hell try," Harry interrupted. "I'm alright, I promise… just- just leave me alone, okay?"

His friends frowned, but didn't argue. They had long since moved beyond the point in their friendship when they'd have tried to force him to talk. They knew now that he wouldn't, not for anything, and that their friendship was held together with little more than spit and grit these days. Without saying anything more, the couple turned and left the dorm room. Harry sighed as he pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them close. He felt so alone.

"You've stopped talking to your friends."

Harry jumped, startled, and turned to the other side of his bed. The curtains parted as Severus sat on the edge of his bed. Harry blushed as the man moved further onto the bed and closed both sets of curtains. He shifted his legs down, crossing them tightly as he stiffly clasped his hands together in his lap. He stared at his fingers, white from the force he was exerting.

"We don't really have anything to talk about anymore," He told the man quietly. "We've been running on empty for a long time. I just got tired of trying to find something to talk about. They won't talk about the war, and the war is all I know. We just…don't have anything in common anymore."

"You talk to me," Severus pointed out.

Harry rolled his eyes. "That's different, though," He answered. "When I talk to you… I don't have to be careful about what I say. Even when everything I say links back to the war, you listen and respond accordingly. They don't do that. If I mention anything that even just _might_ lead back to discussion of the war, they get all awkward and change the subject, no matter what I say. I'm so tired of having to pick and choose what problems or nightmares I tell them about, because they don't want to hear about anything that still plagues me. They don't want my friendship, they want my _leadership_. They want me to be _their_ problem solver, no matter what's going on with me."

"That is quite unfair of them," Severus scoffed. "I suppose I cannot fault you for feeling the way you do, if that is the case."

"It is," Harry assured him bitterly.

He opened his mouth to say more, but beyond his curtains he heard the door to his dorm open. His mouth snapped shut as the sounds of his dorm mates goofing off as part of their nighttime routine filled the dorm. Instead, he reached out and began playing with Severus' hand, tracing the lines on his palm and dancing his fingers over each calloused, potion-stained pad. Severus shivered under his ministrations, but they each held their silence as the other Seventh Year Gryffindor boys clambered into their beds, chattering loud enough to wake the Slytherins in the dungeons. After several minutes, conversation died down and the lights went out. Harry cast his mild _Lumos_ , and waited with bated breath until he heard the first stirrings of Ron and Seamus' snoring battle. When he was certain his friends were asleep, he smiled shyly up into the black gaze of the Potions Master. Severus smirked back, and Harry looked down at his lap, where he was still playing with the man's hand. He knew he had to say something to break the silence, but damned if he knew what he could say.

"I love you, you know." He said without any forethought. His eyes widened comically as he looked back up into the dark gaze. "I don't- I mean, I-"

"Harry-"

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered immediately, ducking his head as a blush tainted his cheeks.

He couldn't believe what he had just said. He'd managed to hide this change in emotion for two months, and it had just slipped out at the first awkward silence. What the hell was he thinking? Obviously, he hadn't been, or he wouldn't have said it. Gentle fingers on his chin lifted his gaze, interrupting his dark train of thought, and he discovered Severus had moved excruciatingly close.

"Don't be," The Potions Master whispered.

Harry shivered as the man's breath ghosted over his lips. He barely had time to register what was happening as the man leaned closer, closing the distance agonizingly slow. Before their lips could mesh together, however, Severus stopped short, his hand moving to cup the back of Harry's head as he shifted onto his knees to tower over the Seventh Year.

"This is what I was trying so hard to hide from you," Severus murmured against his lips.

Harry felt his breath hitch as the man finally closed the distance, consuming his mouth in a kiss that seemed to rob Harry of his breath and reason. Cautiously, very aware that he was inexperienced and naïve in these matters, Harry reached out and curled his fingers in the thick black robes, using his grip as leverage to lean up and return the kiss as best he could. Severus cupped his cheeks with both hands, and Harry, feeling emboldened, began to lean back, dragging the man down with him in agonizing slow motion. Severus' hands left his cheeks to brace himself on the mattress as Harry laid himself bare beneath him. Without ever breaking their kiss, Severus moved his knees to straddle Harry's hips, one hand slipping beneath his head to draw him further into the mesh of lips, teeth, and tongue. Harry couldn't stop a muffled moan of needy desire as he held himself above the mattress with his fingers still grasping the man's robes.

Severus pulled away. "Harry, we can't." He murmured breathlessly.

Harry shook his head. "We can," He responded pleadingly, wrapping his ankles around the Potions Master's calves. "Please, Severus, don't stop."

"Your dorm mates…"

"They sleep like logs," Harry answered, pulling himself up to place gentle kisses on the man's exposed throat. "The Hogwarts Express could crash through the wall and they wouldn't notice until morning."

Severus hissed as Harry continued to administer his light kisses. He rocked back and forth gently, wavering between pulling away or not. "You are… so innocent," He whispered. He drew Harry into a brief, heart-stopping kiss. "You have no idea what I could do to you."

Harry smirked, slightly dazed from the deep kiss. "Show me," He purred.

Severus growled and leant down, drawing him into a deeper, searing kiss. Harry went willingly into it, trying and failing to raise his hips to meet the Potions Masters. Severus purposefully kept his hips out of reach, even as he continued to consume the mouth beneath his. Harry whimpered quietly as those thin, sinful lips released him and moved instead to trail along his jaw.

"So innocent," Severus murmured again before lightly nipping the lobe of Harry's ear. He pulled away. "No more, Harry, else I will not be able to stop myself."

Harry groaned as he released the man and Severus collapsed onto his side beside him. They were both breathing pretty heavily, and Harry shifted around until he was facing the man. Severus reached out and traced a finger down the side of his face. Unable to resist, Harry leaned forward and captured the man's lips. Severus allowed him to control the kiss for a long moment, until Harry began tackling the buttons at his throat. Long-fingered hands wrapped around his, and the Potions Master pulled away. He leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on Harry's lips.

"No, Harry," The man said again.

Harry smiled despite himself. "Spoil sport." He shifted closer until he was curled against the man's chest, their hands still clasped together. "Will you still talk me to sleep?"

Severus released one of his hands to curl his arm around his back. "Of course, Harry," He whispered gently.

The Gryffindor smiled as he began to drift under the spell of the man's continuous speech.


	10. Chapter 10

_Draco had somehow gotten Death Eaters into the school. Without Dumbledore to stop them, it had been too easy for them to take down the wards. Thank Merlin Snape had summoned the Order as soon as he'd realized what Draco was doing. They'd needed all the help they could get as a swarm of thirty-odd Death Eaters, the full inner circle, swarmed onto the school grounds. The students were locked in their dorms, thanks to the Deputy Headmistress, McGonagall, and Harry watched in awe as the witch led an army of empty suits of armor against the dark wizards that had dared to invade her school._

 _Snape, after his brief kindness on the steps outside Dumbledore's office, had led Harry to Voldemort on the banks of the Black Lake. Harry stood ready to fight, and expected Snape to fade back into the shadows, where he could fight without exposing his loyalty, but instead the Potions Master stepped up to his side and drew his own wand. The message was clear, he would face down this terrible enemy with his student._

" _You betray me, Ssseverusss?" Riddle hissed angrily._

" _I was never yours, you bastard," Snape called. "Not since you began to target my first and only friend."_

 _Voldemort scoffed. "You are weak, Sseveruss, I should never have allowed you to join me. It isss no matter, I will sssee you dead before I take on your preciousss prodigy."_

 _The Dark Lord flicked his wand suddenly, and Snape collapsed to his knees beside Harry with a shout, gripping his left arm where Tom's mark marred his flesh. Harry looked worriedly over, forgetting for the barest moment that he was faced with almost certain death. Snape looked up._

" _I cannot fight him, Potter," The man said quietly. With viper quickness, his hand shot up and wrapped around Harry's wand hand. "I grant you my power."_

 _A blinding white light burst around their clasped hands, and when it had gone, Harry saw Severus collapsed on the pebbled beach of the lake, apparently unconscious. Eyes glowing with his new and sudden power, Harry turned to the snake that had dared to harm the man who'd apparently cared too much for him. He raised his wand slowly. He knew, now, that with Severus' help he had the power to end the war once and for all._

Harry sat up with a start, swiping at the tears leaking from his eyes. He cast _lumos_ , scaring away the midnight shadows, and was incredibly relieved to discover Severus sitting at the foot of his bed. His dream, which he knew to be a memory, was too distant to see, but he knew this time that he'd been dreaming of the Final Battle and Severus' role. Seeming to sense that all was not right, Severus crawled across the bed to settle beside him, drawing him against his chest.

"I was dreaming of the final battle," Harry murmured. "I don't remember everything that happened, but I remember that you were there. You stood by my side, even though you knew Voldemort would kill you if I failed."

Severus nodded. "Can you remember anything else?" He asked.

Harry shook his head, pulling away. "No, it's all too fuzzy. But I remember that much." He looked up at the man he loved. "You're so amazing," He murmured. "Why did we waste all those years fighting?"

Severus chuckled. "You were young and impetuous, and I was a callous grump. It would not have mattered, however. I hardly loved you until you were sixteen. It was then that I first began to see the real you, and the pressures you were under."

"You've loved me that long?" Harry asked, grinning. "Now I feel bad, because I didn't realize I loved you until that first night you came to the Burrow."

"Yes, you seem to feel absolutely awful," Severus said, cupping his jaw and running his fingers through his hair. He guided Harry closer, but stopped with their lips still inches apart. "Is this alright?"

Harry shivered, his lips tingling in anticipation. "Please, Severus, I want this. Don't tease me."

Severus leaned in slightly. "Never," He answered softly.

He closed the distance between them and their mouths crashed together, full of passion and the desire to consume one another. Harry moaned as that devilishly sharp tongue pressed questingly against his parted lips before sweeping past them to tease his own tongue. He was still full of inexperience and trepidation of doing something wrong, but he felt none of that as Severus began guiding him back to lie on his side. The kiss grew more heated as Harry felt his body begin to respond in the most natural way. He lifted his leg to wrap around Severus', and the hand on his head slithered down his body to pull his thigh higher against him. The position was remarkably erotic to Harry's innocent mind, and he felt himself crave further contact, a craving like he had never known. He wanted Severus, but had no idea how to ask for it.

Instead, full of trepidation, he pushed himself up on his elbow and shifted his weight so that he and Severus rolled as one until his knee met his sheets, straddling thin hips. Severus stilled beneath him, stiffening remarkably, and gently pushed at Harry's shoulders until the kiss was broken. Harry stared down into the desire-clouded onyx eyes.

"Please, Severus," He murmured again. "I want this, and I know you do, too."

"Are you sure, Harry?" Severus asked softly.

The Gryffindor nodded, gathering his courage. "I am… but… I don't know how."

Severus leaned up and drew him into a fervent kiss before pulling away. "So innocent," He breathed, drawing Harry down with him.

Slowly, his hand slid between their rocking bodies, and Harry blushed self-consciously as long fingers found his weeping manhood through his pajama bottoms. He felt the man undoing the buttons of his robes to where they ended at his waist, and flinched when the man's hand slipped in its fervor to undo the button of his trousers. That devilish hand soothed the hurt on Harry's manhood, before the man broke the kiss to lift his hips and slide his trousers down to his pale thighs. Harry looked down between them as the man's other hand joined the first, working at the knot on his sleep pants. His blush deepened as the knot finally came loose and Severus pushed down his bottoms to reveal his nakedness underneath. His eyes shifted, following the hand that remained between them, as it gently positioned Severus' rock hard phallus. The man was huge, and without knowing why, Harry felt his asshole quiver with the desire that raced through his bloodstream at the mere sight of the man. The hand slid back up their bodies, and gentle fingers on Harry's chin forced his eyes away from the intimidating rod of flesh. He looked shyly into the onyx gaze of his lover, and prayed the man wouldn't stop because of the innocence he couldn't hide.

"It's alright, Harry," Severus murmured. His hands gently gripped the Gryffindors hips and slowly pulled him down.

Harry gasped as their members came together. "That- that feels…"

"Good?" Severus inquired with a smirk.

Harry nodded, biting his lip. Following the guiding hands on his hips, he began to rock against the man, their members sliding together like silk on silk. He fought not to gasp again as his whole body twitched. He started to shift his hips faster, craving this new delicious sensation, but the fingers on his hips tightened, and he froze.

"Slowly," Severus murmured. "There's no hurry."

Harry nodded, chewing his lip as his arms trembled beneath him. He started to move his hips again, slow and deliberate, and could feel his breath coming in shallow gasps as the sensation consumed him. He failed to stop a moan that worked its throaty way past his lips. Severus' grip tightened again, but Harry sensed that this time he had no intention of making him stop.

"Yes, Harry," Severus hissed gently.

"Is this right?" Harry asked carefully. He ground his hips down lightly, and Severus gasped, arching his back.

"Merlin, yes," The man moaned.

Harry smiled bashfully as he ground his hips down again, causing the man's back to arch further.

"Gods, Harry, don't stop."

"This- this feels…Oh, Merlin, Sev'rus, I think I'm close," Harry told the man disappointedly. He didn't want these sensations to end, but he could feel his body winding up. "I-I don't want to stop."

Black eyes opened, and Severus leaned up to capture his lips desperately. "It's alright, Harry. I want you to come for me."

"N-not yet," Harry moaned. "Feels too good. Please don't make me stop."

Severus smirked, his hands sliding around to grip Harry's ass cheeks, dragging him down roughly. "It's okay, Harry. It's normal for your first time. Come for me, I want to feel you orgasm."

Harry shook his head, keeping his strokes deliberately slow. He didn't ever want this to end. Without warning, long, slim digits slid into the crack between his cheeks. He quivered with desire as a single finger gently swiped over his puckered hole. He was so close; he could feel himself wavering on the edge of oblivion. When that slim digit slipped gently inside him, his world exploded in a blinding flash of light and a single, harsh shout. His body jerked forward, before he pushed back against the invasive finger. His orgasm exploded from him in a full-body spasm as he struggled to draw air into his starving lungs.

"That's right, Harry," Severus murmured encouragingly. "Come for me. Don't stop."

Harry continued to spasm as his seed shot between them. It seemed an eternity passed as he convulsed against the man. And then it was ending, the blinding light igniting as a dim point in his vision, and he became very aware of his trembling body, his arms almost too weak to hold him aloft. Feeling suddenly embarrassed and depressed, he rolled off the man and curled on his side.

"I'm sorry," He murmured.

Long arms wrapped around him gently from behind. "Whatever for?"

Harry looked over his shoulder, trying and failing to hide his tears. "I came too soon. You didn't even finish, did you?"

Severus smiled endearingly. "This was not about that."

Harry rolled over and pressed against the man. "It was for me."

He hissed when their members met again. He felt too sensitive down there to try doing that again. He pulled away. Severus gestured to the off-white goo on his chest.

"This was what I wanted, Harry," He murmured gently. "We can worry about finishing together some other time. I only wanted you to learn what pleasure we can bring one another, stamina can come later."

Harry frowned, transfixed by his orgasmic fluids on the firm, pale abdomen. Without thinking, only curious, Harry scooted down on the bed and pushed aside the unbuttoned black robe. With a shiver of nervousness, hoping he wasn't wrong, he extended his tongue and swept up a line of semen. This action drew a quivering gasp from the Potions Master, and Harry blushed as a proud smile lifted the corners of his lips. He performed the action again and again, ignoring the bitter flavor of his own seed as his tongue cleaned the flat stomach. When he'd done, Severus was breathing heavily. For no apparent reason, Harry recalled an argument between his dorm mates. Seamus had, at some point last year, begun to insist there was no greater pleasure than sex, but Dean had argued immediately that a good blow job trumped sex every time. Harry had stupidly asked what a blow job was, and they'd both briefly explained.

Glancing up at the half-lidded eyes of his older lover, Harry wondered if, perhaps, he might be good at such a thing. Realizing there was absolutely no harm in trying, as Severus was definitely the sort to make him stop if he did something wrong, he dipped further down on his bed. Neither Seamus or Dean had gone into any sort of detail, but Harry figured it was probably one of those things best learned in practice, anyway. Another glance up showed that Severus was recovering from the licking, and watching him curiously. Going with what he already knew worked, Harry swiped his tongue slowly up the man's hot rod of flesh.

Severus arched into him, his hand going immediately to the back of Harry's head.

"Merlin, Harry, what are you doing to me?" The man gasped.

Harry smiled shyly and performed the action again, this time ending with a swirl of his tongue around the mushroomed head. Severus gasped again, and Harry, feeling emboldened, took the man's head into his mouth. The Potions Master's hips jerked as his breath became shallow and needy.

"That- that's it, Harry," The man murmured. "Just like that."

Harry, who wasn't _entirely_ ignorant of the ways of the world, at least knew what sex between a man and woman was like, even if he had no idea what sex between two men might entail. He began to bob his head slowly up and down the large phallus, miming the thrusts of sex. The hand at the back of his head tightened. Curious, Harry began to suck gently with each back stroke. Severus' hips jerked again, and his head thrust into Harry's mouth sharply, hitting the back of his throat. Harry gagged lightly.

"S-sorry," Severus whispered harshly. "Merlin, don't stop."

Harry smirked around the man's phallus. Forcing his gullet to relax, he consumed the entirety of the man's intimidating girth, burying his nose in the black hairs at the base.

"Harry!" The man gasped, likely intending to shout if he'd had the air.

Harry pulled back on the stiff rod as it began to pulse, shooting white hot seed down his throat. The taste, different from his own, was thick and surprisingly pleasant as it washed over his tongue, and he drank it in needily. When the twitching and pulsing had done, he swept his tongue all along the length, cleaning the member until all that was left was the musky, enticing flavor of Severus' flesh. He crawled back up the bed and curled against the man's naked chest. A shaking hand wrapped around him and pulled him closer, so that he heard each trembling breath Severus' starved lungs clawed for.

"Where-?" The word came out breathy and barely there, and Severus cleared his throat. "Where did you learn that?"

Harry blushed beet red. "I-I didn't," He admitted. "I just did what I thought would feel good. Was it alright? I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"

The man's arms wrapped more tightly around him. "Not at all, Harry. It felt amazing. There aren't many people who can deep-throat on their first try."

Harry's blush deepened as he grinned against the pale chest. "You can thank my relatives for that. Dudley likes to go for the gut, and I learned from a young age to repress my gag reflex if I didn't want to be cleaning my own vomit."

Severus scoffed. "I'll be sure to send them a card," He snarked.

Harry chuckled softly and curled up closer to the man. He was delightfully exhausted. "Sleep now, cards later."

Severus chuckled as well and tightened his hold. "I believe I was last discussing the Sixth Year potions?"

Harry nodded.

"Very well," The man mumbled. "The Draught of Dreamless Sleep is the most addictive, yet most effective, curb for frequent nightmares…"

Harry felt himself begin to drift in the arms of his lover as that sinful voice washed over him.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry awoke with a sleepy smile in the early morning before the sunrise on Valentines. Severus had long since stopped waking him every time he came, occasionally slipping under the covers and simply holding him in his half-wake state. This was one of those times, and he twisted under his blankets and Severus' arm to curl against the thin chest.

"I was just dreaming about you," He whispered softly.

"What were you dreaming, Harry?"

"Good things," He answered. "Fairy tale endings and such… Sev?"

The man's chin tucked in against his head. "Yes, Harry?"

Harry frowned, picking at the man's robe. His thigh slipped between the Potions Master's legs. "Will I ever remember what happened when Voldemort died?"

"The time will come, yes," Severus told him.

"Will you still visit?" Harry asked.

Severus' chin shifted again. "Why do you ask such a thing?"

"I guess…" Harry hesitated. "You push the issue each time you visit, I thought perhaps it was the real reason you come. So, will you?"

"I suppose that will depend on whether you still want me to."

"I don't ever want you to stop loving me."

"You never have to worry about that, Harry."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Will…will you kiss me again?"

"Are you sure you want me to?" Severus asked honestly.

Harry nodded. "It's one of the few things I _am_ sure of," He admitted, looking up. "I…Never mind."

Severus leaned forward, cupping Harry's cheek in his hand, and placed a tender kiss on Harry's frowning mouth. "I love you, too, Harry."

Harry grinned. "You said it first."

Severus leaned further into him, until Harry was lying back on the thick mattress and he was leaning over him. "Prove it," The man murmured teasingly.

Harry chuckled into the kiss that was planted on his lips, and went willingly into the all-consuming passion Severus inspired in him.

 _-Break-_

The carriage pulled away from Hogwarts, and Harry watched out the window as his first real home grew smaller. He leaned back in his seat and looked at the Potions Master sat across from him.

"Are you not staying with the other professors?" He asked curiously.

Severus shook his head. "My time at Hogwarts has come to a close."

"Oh," Harry mumbled, blushing. "Do you- do you have any plans for the future?"

Severus smirked. "I hadn't given it much thought," He admitted.

Harry looked out the window. "I haven't, either. Maybe…maybe we could figure it out together?"

A glance showed that the man's smirk had morphed into an endearing smile. "I am amenable to that, Mister Potter."

Harry chuckled with relief, returning his gaze to the passing landscape. As they passed out of the gates of Hogwarts, he noticed a black marble obelisk that stood in stark contrast halfway down the path to Hogsmeade. He frowned, looking after the obelisk and feeling as if he were forgetting something. Had that always been there? He couldn't seem to recall. Shrugging it off, Harry turned back to his lone companion with a grin. The mysteries of Hogwarts were no longer his to worry about.


	12. Chapter 12

Halfway between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade stood a lone, black marble obelisk, tall and proud amidst the tall grass, in stark relief to the lightly wooded area. Upon this statue was a small plaque, which any passerby might pause to read:

 _In memoriam_

 _Severus Tobias Snape_

 _1960-1997_

" _You were the hero we needed…"_


End file.
